It was hard to meet that gaze. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both. “Mr. Now you can understand why every minute is a torture to me. “Have some more port wine, sir?” “It’s a very sound wine,” said Mr. Passing thought. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. E.
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